You Can Have This Heart
by moonlessmondays
Summary: Regina Mills swears that she can never have her heart pieced back together again. But when she finds herself in the center where they heal ailments of the heart, will she be able to let go and love again? And can the man with the dimpled smile who smells like forest help her fix her broken heart? Will she let him? OQ AU.
1. 1

**I think about a week or two ago, I tweeted, asking for a prompt (happens from time to time) and my beautiful friend Oh_my_Helena, the queen of Angst herself, asked me to fill out one for her. So I did.**

 **I want to say firstly, that I don't expect this to be great, it's probably crap (ha! what's new?), but all I ask is that you give it a chance. It might be slow at first, but it** ** _will_** **pick up, and when it does, it should get interesting (fingers crossed). Secondly, this is AU, complete AU. Characters are hopefully on point, but everything else is a totally different ball game.**

 **I know it's a crime to have another story when you have another, but if I promise I will work on both of them diligently, will you guys forgive me? :)**

 **But you're not here for my babble, so here we go. As usual, all disclaimers apply, including the fact that I own nothing and no one.**

 **Alright, enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Chapter One_**

A sleek black Mercedes makes a screeching halt in front of the old, discolored building strategically hidden away from the heart of the city, located at the farther part of Manhattan. The infrastructure, if one can even call it that anymore, looks like it might crumble any minute, looks nothing like the skyscrapers in Manhattan that she is used to. Granted, she has never stepped foot anywhere that is not located at the Upper East Side, lest she gives her mother a conniption, but this, this looks like it's been built in the 1800s and will just fall over the ground (it probably is, and it probably will, she thinks).

She turns the engine off with a sigh, tells herself that she does need to do this, _wants_ to do this (only she isn't prepared for what she is about to face), and so she fumbles with her belt and then climbs out the car, shutting the door behind her with a soft thud. She walks down the gravel road gingerly, her high heels making it a challenge to cross the short way from her car to the entrance of the building, and she thinks to herself that the next time she pays a visit, she'll be wearing flats, no matter how much she actually loathes to do so. The breeze whips around her and she pulls her cobalt coat around her tighter. The October air isn't very forgiving, and it beats about, hard and cold. The clouds are certainly greyer now, the summer have long gone and moved on to a breezy, cold autumn.

The inside of the battered down infrastructure is not much better, she thinks, once she's inside the building, and the click clack of her shoes makes echoing noises of the otherwise empty, quiet halls. The lights flicker and a chill runs through her spine as she approaches the reception. A bored looking woman (who also looks entirely _too_ judgy for her taste) looks up at her, a surprised expression taking residence on her face for a half minute before the woman schools it into a polite indifference.

She places her black purse atop the dingy, old desk (this place _is_ dingy and old, honestly), and stands before the woman, trying to give her a polite smile that she thinks might have come out as a grimace instead.

Well.

"How may I help you?" the woman asks her, eyebrow raising—and yep, she's judgy, alright.

"I'm Regina Mills," Regina says softly but strongly, not entirely sure if her name gains the same reaction it does in the city. "I'm here as a representative from King Properties."

The woman's eyes widen, almost comically, and the gasp that slips from her mouth is too loud not to be noticed. She scrambles off her feet, tries to place a smile on her face that has Regina scowling internally. Well, that's too late for that now.

"I'm sorry," the woman says as she stands up straighter in her seat, offering Regina a polite nod. "I'm nurse Abby, and this Storybrooke Hearts Center."

Regina wants to ask if this is really the center, but she bites the question down. It does not look at all like it is serving their purpose, but she knows that there is always more than meets the eye. However, the cold, dank feeling of the building does little to mollify her concern—do they really cater for children here? This does not at all look like a child friendly place.

It looks too empty, seems to be too quiet.

Still, she is here for one purpose only, to deliver Leopold King's _grace_ —money granted as charity for this place, to help it not fall apart and help him save a few million dollars as tax pay-offs. Every year, Leopold King finds a charity, a hospital or hospice, or a non-government organization he can donate a truckload of money to, that still won't cost as much tax money he needs to pay off, if he doesn't. This year, they have found a semi-private establishment, or rather state-owned (which she has sure has a modicum of difference between them, but basically means that there are stockholders, but the state can have their interference—something or the other, she's managed to doze off when it's been explained to her, the particulars had not really mattered then), one that caters for young children with heart ailments who cannot afford to pay for the treatment. They could come from different places, different background, but most of them are orphans who has been passed on by the child-services to them for care.

She's bringing in the documents that need signing so that the Center can finally get a hold of the money they have been granted. She's also wanted to go around and check the center, see if there is anything else they could do to help, or maybe, she thinks, it's to mollify her conscience. Of course, Regina didn't really have to do this, did not have to drive on her own to see this people and tell them that King Properties wants to donate money to their establishment, but she's thought it would be good for her, thought it would ground her, mother's agreed, thinking it would good for their image to have her deliver the news herself, and Leopold—having been apprehensive at first—agreed then, too, because he basically eats off mother's palms. Only Regina's father, Henry, has been the one to worry about her, or her reasons for wanting to do this, but of course, he's never dared to ask, never dared to question either his wife or daughter for their decisions.

Now, Regina wonders if she's made the right one.

Regina comes back down to the present when the nurse gets out from behind the reception desk and starts leading her away to a room— _the director's office_ , says the nurse when Regina asks where they are headed to.

The director is not at all as Regina has expected. The director, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan is a pixie haired woman with a very fair complexion, and bright brown eyes, with a soft smile, and is probably a few years younger than Regina. She is warm, kind, and probably the kind of woman who wins people over with her rainbow kisses and unicorn stickers. She reminds Regina a bit of Snow White, a thought that has Regina stifling a chuckle.

"I'm Regina Mills," Regina says as she holds out her hand for the other woman too shake, which she does, enthusiastically. "I'm here for the King's Properties charity grant."

The pixie haired woman nods, smiles. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Mills. We have been expecting you" she says as she leads Regina to her table, asking her to seat, if she pleases, which Regina does. "I cannot begin to thank you and King's Properties for this grant, Miss Mills." The young director sighs forlornly and looks around the meager space she calls an office. " As you can see, this place is run out and old, it's barely sufficient for the patients we already have here, and this money, this grant would really help the establishment a lot. We try to take in as much patients as we can, but it's not easy when we run on a very low budget. And I'm sure the children will appreciate it."

Regina nods, she does understand, and it breaks her heart more than she could possibly say to know these things. But she also knows that there is just much that she can do, that anyone can do, and whatever she's doing now isn't even enough.

"Would you like a tour of the facilities, Miss Mills?" Mrs. Blanchard-Nolan asks, looking at her with a soft smile. "Perhaps, you can also meet the staff and our volunteers. Get a feel of how we run things here."

It shouldn't matter, it doesn't really, she doesn't have to know—the money has been granted, Regina doesn't have to know anything anymore. The Center has been researched thoroughly by Leopold's staff, Regina just needs to have the contract signed by Mary Margaret Blanchard and she can leave, but somehow, RegIna stays rooted to the ground, finds herself nodding at the younger woman.

"Sure," Regina says, and when the other woman positively beams at her, the doubts she feels floats away.

 **(-=-=-)**

Though the edifice suggests otherwise, the center is homey and cozy, the facilities are lacking, and Regina is sure that the amount of money the foundation is giving will be more than enough, but the staff are warm and nice and they try and make it work as much as they can. The smiles on the children's faces (they have passed by a few rooms on their way) are priceless, joyous despite their situation.

Mary Margaret Blanchard in true Disney Princess fashion, gives Regina a tour of the establishment, all the while talking about giving the children hope. She must be granted a quarter by the hope committee every time she gives out those speeches, Regina muses.

Regina has also been introduced to some of the staff of the heart center, from the resident psychiatrist named Archie Hopper down to the ones who take care of the children (like nannies, or second parents, Mary Margaret explains) down to the maintenance crew, led my Leroy Grumps. All of them have given her warm smiles and passed on their gratitude for the fund that King Properties has kindly granted them. Regina can only nod, smile as she shakes their hands and say that it's well worth it. It _is._

"There are children who stay in here," Mary-Margaret (as she insists on being called, Mrs. Blanchard Nolan sounds too stiff and old, she's said) says, as she points to a row of rooms that make up as bedrooms. "Those are children who were orphaned, passed onto here by child-services. We had more last year, but we really can't afford to take them all in and give them care. We're short on staff, as it is, and we do have volunteers, but we can't expect them to give more than they already do, so we've talked with Child services and some of them had to be transferred. Mostly the intensive care ones."

Regina nods sadly, not really sure what to say. It breaks her heart, but there isn't much that she can do, not much that she can offer. This is the best she can give, and she knows it's not nearly enough.

"But, with the money we've been granted by the King Properties, I think we can manage to care for the children we have better and take in a few more patients," Mary Margaret adds cheerfully as they enter the kitchen.

Regina looks around the small kitchen and watches as a few people bustle about, cleaning pots and pans, preparing what looks like snacks for the kids and the staffs and volunteers, some were just lounging, talking.

' _It's probably tea hour,'_ Regina remarks drily in her head as she surveys the kitchen. And what a ridiculous thought for only her mother would ever suggest such a notion as tea hour—her pretentious, heartless, horror-show of a mother. ' _At least it's clean_ '. And it truly is, not a spot on the counter, no mess or puddle on the floor, and not one hair out of the kitchen helps' heads.

"And who's this supposed to be?" Regina hears a booming voice ask and she turns around to find a small, pudgy woman, a head full of graying hair, walk over to her and Mary Margaret.

Mary Margaret beams, takes Regina's hands in hers, surprising Regina. She's never the one to be affectionate with people (the kind of life she lived did not, _does_ not, really leave much room for that), but there is something about Mary Margaret—she is warm and kind, hopeful to a fault— _Snow White._

"This is Miss Regina Mills," Mary Margaret answers, turning her head over to Regina, the gratitude almost pouring over from her eyes. The way she looks at Regina, one would think Regina hangs the moon. "She's from the King Properties. She's here because they've granted us the funds."

"Did they?" the old woman asks, her face serious, her eyebrow raising.

Regina only half smiles, nods politely at the older woman before her, and watches as Mary Margaret does the same.

"Thank you," the woman says and she surprisingly pulls Regina and crushes her with a hug, making Regina's eyes go wide with surprise. Surely, these people are not fairy tale characters? They have to be, though, to be this ridiculously warm and affectionate.

Mary Margaret laughs as Regina exhales out of sheer relief when the older woman finally lets go of her.

"This is Wilhelmina Lucas, we call her Granny," Mary Margaret explains, and Regina can only nod. "She's in charge of the food, for us and for the children. And she makes one hell of an apple pie."

"And strawberry cheesecake, girl, don't forget how you've eaten almost half of the cheesecake I baked, begging me to bake some more, because your baby likes it," Granny adds in, smirking at Mary Margaret in a way that tells Regina it hasn't been the baby who likes it at all, but the mother.

Regina turns her head to look at the pixie of a woman and raises an eyebrow. "You have a kid?" she asks before she can comprehend her question, and if it makes her look blunt and crass, well, there's no way to take it back now.

Luckily, Mary Margaret (Or _Snow_ , as Regina has now kindly dubbed the unsuspecting director) only beams fondly at her and bobs her head in the affirmative. "I do, a boy," Mary Margaret answers excitedly as she fishes out her phone from her pocket and scrolls for a few moments before flashing the screen to Regina, showing a picture of an adorable, pudgy baby boy. "He is six months and a half, and his name is Neal."

Regina smiles, in awe, and nods her head as Snow ( _Mary Margaret_ , she reminds herself sternly, thinking she better stop thinking that before she actually calls the woman that) tucks her phone back to her pocket. "He's beautiful," she offers, completely sincere.

Mary Margaret's answering smile makes Regina smile too. And then Granny, who has now gone back to tinkering with her pots and pans, slaving away in front of the stove to what Regina thinks is hot cocoa for the children (no doubt for the adults alike), lets Mary Margaret do the introducing for the rest of the staff. They all welcome her with a grateful smile, their faces full of hope. She's never been so welcomed before, never in her life felt like anyone, someone, is so happy to see her, and it might only be because of the money she's come with, or the fact that almost all of the people here seem to have come out from a fairytale or something, but the warm fuzzy feeling that comes from being accepted stays, lingers and settles within her.

It is a few moments later, when Snow (and Regina's given up for now, there might be a large possibility that she won't see this woman again, ever, anyway) is about to usher her out of the kitchen that a young woman bursts through the swinging door. Her hair has streaks of red in it, her clothes are something that Regina thinks should be prohibited to be seen by children, and her eyes are lined with a think black liner and her lips are a shade of blood red. Regina is not a particularly judgmental person, she doesn't mostly care about what people wear as long as hers look decent, but this has her raising her eyebrows a bit. Mary Margaret looks like she's not entirely too bothered by it, so Regina clamps her mouth shut.

"Granny, it's snack time," the woman informs Granny, who only nods surly, muttering an annoyed, _'like I didn't know that'._ It doesn't take long for the woman to spot Regina and cock her eyebrow at her presence. "Who are you?"

Regina would have shaken her head at the blunt and utterly tactless way the woman has asked, if only she isn't guilty of the same crime just a while ago. She opens her mouth to reply, but Mary Margaret beats her to it.

"This is Miss Regina Mills, she is from King Properties and she's here for the grant," Snow explains to the woman who nods her head and offers Regina a warm smile, one that Regina finds hard not to return. "Miss Mills, this is Ruby Lucas. She's granny's actual granddaughter, and she's in charge of taking care of the children, supervising them, entertaining them."

"Hi, Miss Mills," Ruby says as she waves from where she is standing, then she turns to Granny who has now trays of food and hot cocoa lined up on the counter. "We should go feed hungry little tummies. And you all should come out of here, heard that Locksley and his Merry Men are entertaining us today."

Regina shoots Mary Margaret a questioning glance, making the woman smirk at her, and it has Regina curious, to be honest.

"You want to come with us and watch for a while? Meet the children?" Mary Margaret asks, and she looks at Regina with the same eyes that she has when she talks about hope for the children that Regina doesn't quite know how to say no. Mary Margaret is like a freaking Disney Princess alright—with her doe eyes and her soft smile.

And Regina _does_ want to say no, wants to say that she can't, she's running out of time (she isn't, but she'd like to say no all the same), because she does not know how she would bode should she ever have to see the faces of the children who are dealt with an unfair hand. It is Granny who prods her however, and Ruby whose arms loops around hers, dragging her out of the kitchen, saying she need not worry, she'll enjoy it.

She's inclined to take their word for it, but at the back of her head she wonders how.

How does she enjoy anything when the weight presses so heavily against her chest at the thought that this is the best she can do, and it is not nearly good enough?

 **(-=-=-)**

Regina doesn't quite know what she expects to see, isn't quite sure what she's thought the children would be like, but it is definitely not this. There are bright smiles on their faces, some laughing as one of the Merry Men—Killian, she's been told—makes a show out of being a pirate before they actually played (she's learned that Merry Men is actually a band of men volunteers who likes to play and sing for the children—nothing serious, definitely not looking for a record deal, but they play as per the children's request. They also play on the Center's parties or fund-raising activities). If some of the kids look frail and sickly, it is taken away by the smiles on their faces, seemingly unparalleled even by the shining sun.

She stays at the back with Mary Margaret and Granny as Ruby and the others begin serving the snacks to the grateful children. It doesn't take long before the all of the children (not more than fifty, by Regina's estimate) are served with the snacks, and the stage is filled up by the Merry Men—the "pirate" guy Killian on rhythm, a tall beefy man named John Little (Regina tries not to laugh at that, how ironic) as the bassist, a tall, black-haired man who plays the drums, and then the lead guitarist and vocalist Robin Locksley who isn't even there yet.

But the children are happy and entertained regardless, the rest of the merry men doing their best to make the children laugh and smile. One child in particular, a young girl, has come over to her and Mary Margaret, just to say hi, and when the young girl has noticed Regina, she gave her a beaming smile, tells her that she should smile, because they were happy (it is only then that Regina's realized she's wearing a heartbroken look on her face—she's been too absorbed with watching the kids), and Regina can feel something catch in her chest, something that makes her gulp down, makes her clench her fists and makes tears prickle her eyes. She hears her mother's voice in her head telling her that crying is weakness. But she can't help it; it's too much.

She excuses herself quickly, earning herself a curious stare from Mary Margaret, but she pays her no explanation, only makes a hasty exit, blearily finding her way out the door and through the empty hallways. She faces the wall, tries to breathe in and out, she can't possibly break down because of this, can't possibly have her heart be so positively broken at the sight of young children (the oldest she's spotted cannot be any older than eighteen) smiling, laughing, putting on a brave face despite the pain of having a disease that chips away at their childhood. She feels their pain, feels it deeply, and it's hard not to get emotional.

She braces herself with a hand on the wall, her other coming up to cover her mouth, she can feel herself shaking at the effort not burst into tears, she is so far unsuccessful as some errant ones find their way down her cheeks. She closes her eyes and tries to imagine their smiling faces, tries hard not to think of the sadness they must be feeling, or pity them—for they are not to be pitied, she thinks, they are fighters, they are survivors.

She feels a weight crashing on her legs and feels her knees buckle at the impact. She opens her eyes in a flash, her hands closing into fists as she pulls on her weight and lets it rest fully on her arms to not topple over the floor on her ass, but she needs not worry as she feels two strong arms wrap around her and save her from the possible graceless fall.

She looks down to find a boy sitting on his rear, looking at her with bright green eyes, wide like saucers in surprise, and she takes a fortifying breath as she straightens herself. She looks up, then, and finds the clearest pair of blue eyes she's ever seen, a dimpled smile accompanying it. The man looks rugged, looks a bit amused, and he bites his lip, his amusement fading away as his eyebrows knit. He looks at her with concern in his eyes.

"Are you alright milady?" he asks her, and god, does he have to sound so sexy in his deep voice and hot British accent?

 _Focus, Regina_ , she chides herself.

She places her mask of stoicism back and nods. "I'm fine," she says shortly, trying not to let her first thoughts slip through with polite indifference. She harrumphs with a modicum of annoyance, and says, "Though, I didn't really need your help."

Irritation flashes visibly across the man's face and he looks put out for five seconds before he schools his features to a more passive one. "A simple thank you would suffice," he chides, and she knows that, but she chooses to ignore it, instead she looks down to look for the child who bumped into her, finding him gone. She looks up and meets the man's eyes. "That was Walsh," he supplies needlessly. "He is a bit of a troublemaker, running around the halls when they are specifically told not to. But I'm sure he hasn't meant to bump into you."

She shakes her head. "I don't mind. I'm sure it was an accident," she says and she means it too, she can't fault children for being children.

"Hmm," he hums as he looks her up and down appraisingly. He holds out his hand, clearly intending for her to shake. "Robin Locksley, at your service."

She stares at his hand but declines to shake it. She doesn't really do touch. "Regina Mills," she offers however.

He smiles then, "Ah, so you're the one," he says softly, his eyes twinkling—and what was that in his eyes? Gratitude? Softness? Genuine pleasure at meeting her? "We cannot thank you enough for the grant."

Ah, and so that's it.

"Yeah, well, it's the least we could do," she says softly, but really, there _is_ more that they can that they are not doing, and they both know it.

"Shall we go inside?" he asks then. "I have very anxious children waiting for us to play."

Ah, and yes, she suddenly remembers that he's the man of the hour. The lead of the band who's come in late. So, she nods, turns on her heels and walks away before he can say a word, and with that action she gets a whiff of his scent, making her senses go on overload. She pushes the thought away

 _No, Regina_ , she tells herself sternly.

She enters the room once more and finds her place beside the Director. Vaguely, she thinks that the man smells of forest.

 **(-=-=-)**

He watches her, watches the elusive woman with deep brown eyes filled with sadness, masking it with indifference and coldness. He watches her as he plays with his friends in front of the room, while she stands with Mary Margaret at the back. He watches as she looks around guardedly, her eyes filled with sorrow, filled with compassion, but even then, even with the sadness she bears weighing down on her shoulders, she stands tall, looks every bit as regal as her name suggests.

He continues to stare at her, even when she looks up and catches him looking, he doesn't mind her knowing, and he can't help but smile when her cheeks flush with pink, slightly spreading down her neck and she averts her eyes, making him swallow don his chuckle. There is a pleasant feeling blooming in his chest at the sight of her reddened face and neck.

When the Merry Men finish their set, they all stay for a while at the front, their make-shift stage, to joke around with the kids and have a bit of a chat, but it doesn't take him long before he is gravitating towards where Mary Margaret is, specifically where Regina Mills stands beside her.

It's a strange feeling, to be so magnetized by one woman, to be so curious of a woman who he's barely even seen for more than an hour, whose existence he had not even known about prior to this, but he is, he is drawn to her like a bee might be to a pollen, akin to a moth towards the fire. It is a dangerous thought, something he is sure not to let fester—he can't, he hasn't been able to, not since his wife, but that is a different story all together.

He stops just short of the two, gives Granny his winning smile, and makes a show of grabbing Granny's hand and placing a kiss upon her knuckle. "Hello Milady," he says, bowing and grinning cheekily at Granny who lets out a whooshing laugh, clearly tickled by his charm.

And he knows that, of course, which is why he insists on doing it every time.

"Oh can it, boy," Granny huffs as she snatches her hand away, making Robin chuckle. When he looks up, he finds Mary Margaret laughing, and Regina Mills looking at him intently, her face a mask of curiosity. He smiles at Mary Margaret's direction. "Hello, Mary Margaret."

Mary Margaret smiles, "Hello, Robin," she says, giving him a warm hug, then he watches as he turns to her side, looking at Regina then back at him. "I don't believe I have introduced the two of you," she says, frowning.

"No need," he says before Mary Margaret can begin. "I met Miss Mills in the hallway. I helped her when Walsh almost made her topple over."

He bites back a smirk when he sees Regina throw him a glare, and he's sure that if she could, she would gladly char him to crisp on the spot, but he only grins at her.

"I didn't need help," Regina insists as she looks over with him, the corner of her lips turning downside with a frown.

He shakes his head and clucks his tongue at her, unimpressed. "You still can't say thank you, can you, Miss Mills?" he asks her coolly, watching as her eyes widen, and he only raises his eyebrow in response.

Well.

She harrumphs, and crosses her arms, and he watches her, sees in his peripheral vision how both Granny and Mary Margaret watch them with keen interest. He holds off her stare for a while longer, watches as _she_ raises her eyebrow this time. From his side, he hears Granny mutter something unintelligible, before she's taking her leave, going back to the kitchen to get some more food prepped and cooked before dinner. But he barely notices that, only keeps his staring contest with the raven-haired woman in front of him. He smirks at her then, before he hears Will calling for him, one of the children having asked for him. He excuses himself and makes himself not look back.

 **(-=-=-)**

She watches him, damn him, as he saunters over to a boy with wild curly hair and a dimpled smile so akin to his. She fumes silently, not really sure why or about what, but knows that it has everything to do with him, with his uncanny ability to make her blood simper with just that crooked, arrogant smirk of his, and if she has her way, she will gladly rip his heart out of her chest (very much like Snow White's Evil Queen, and she'd keep his heart in her vault, along with her collection), but such is not the case, and it seems very unbecoming of her to have such thoughts when she is in a heart's center, so she dispels them, turns to Mary Margaret with a huff.

"Is he really always like that?" she asks, crossing her arms and looking at Robin's general direction, glaring at his rather broad back.

Mary Margaret shrugs. "Like what?" she asks (and really, get a clue, Regina thinks).

"So insufferable and arrogant," Regina all but sputters as she juts her chin indignantly and tightens her arms across her chest.

Mary Margaret chuckles. "He'll grow on you," she assures the not-to-be-pacified Regina Mills, and then she smirks, as though they are old friends, out in a bar and checking boys out. "Besides, he's kinda cute, huh?"

Regina scoffs, rolls her eyes. "He smells like forest," she says as though it's a crime, like it's totally repulsive, but really, it's not (it _is_ , Regina, damn it, she thinks—but no it's not, the flutter in her stomach as she's caught a whiff of him once more just moments ago tells her that it's really not).

Mary Margaret only snickers, shaking her head and giving Regina a look that Regina doesn't know how to interpret, but that's old news now as her eyes follow the man who has successfully ruffled her feathers in such a short time.

Damn that Robin Locksley.

* * *

 **I would just like to quickly thank my best friend Emma who has just been the sweetest angel ever and has been kind enough to listen to my endless hemming and hawing and raving and ranting. To my fandom friends whose support have been without limits or bounds, thank you, you know who you are. And of course, to Melis for such a lovely prompt and for answering** ** _all (trust me there were a lot)_** **my queries about her prompt and she's been lovely, absolutely perfect.**

 **So how was that? Thoughts would be most welcomed and appreciated!**


	2. 2

_Wow, this took a while, but it is here now, so I hope you enjoy it! Unbeta-ed till my last breath, ignore the mistakes._

* * *

 ** _Chapter Two_**

This is crazy. This is actually borderline insane.

It's not even a good idea at all, and should Mother find out, she will surely drag Regina's ass from here back to Madison Square and crucify her over at Central Park. Regina doesn't doubt at all that Cora could, _would_ , do that, actually. But she can't back down now, can't even think of doing so, not when she's come so far, and not when she feels that this is right, that she's doing something right.

And that feels good—to do something right, for other people, for herself, for a change.

So she walks the gravel road, walks with her head held high, walks as gracefully as she could muster, and really, it's no longer a hardship now that she's ditched the high heels and has gone for the more comfy flats. She's also gone away with her business suit that she's worn the last time, opting instead to wear a pair of jeans and a white t-shirt, standard, but probably for the best if she's volunteering at Storybrooke's Heart Center.

She is still not sure that it's a good idea, doesn't think that it's her best one, but then Mary Margaret's doe eyes had been hard to resist. Granted, the director had not _explicitly_ asked her to volunteer—that is her own mouth's doing (which has refused to cooperate with her brain)—but Mary Margaret had not only once mentioned their need for more staff members, more volunteers if possible, she's mentioned it five times, and Regina has apparently taken that as a sign to volunteer as tribute.

She can't take it back now though, and she doesn't think she wants to, anyway. It's just that she doesn't know what to expect, because seeing it is different from actually doing it. Yet here she is, walking down the eerie halls of the center (she thinks it needs sprucing up, wants to actually do just that, perhaps she'll talk to Mary Margaret about it), making her way to the front desk where a redhead nurse named Ari is currently manning. Regina's met her a few days ago when she'd first come to visit. The girl smiles up at her, one she returns briefly, before Regina finds her way to Mary Margaret's office.

Mary Margaret greets her with a smile and an unexpected hug (that she should have expected anyway, because let's face it, Mary Margaret Blanchard-Nolan is literally a fairytale princess come to life), both of which she returns timidly and tad bit less zealously than the director had.

Before Regina can even say anything, Mary Margaret happily loops her arms with hers and gives her a brief tour of the facilities, gives her the do's and don'ts of volunteer work at the center, the time table, and a whole lot other things that Regina thinks she might need a bit of time to get around to. She nods politely at the right times, smiles at the young woman who is very passionate about the cause, and perhaps just a little bit too excited, but Mary Margaret's eyes shine with happiness and enthusiasm, and far be it for Regina to deny her of her little pleasure.

Regina tries to acclimatize to her surroundings, tries to get herself used to this—to the sight of the volunteers and the staff bustling about, of children around her—some laughing merrily, some crying from the pain. It isn't something she encounters every day, no not really, and it's not something she is sure she can get used to…but it's definitely not something she can turn her back to. And when she settles herself in one of the rooms—the playroom, there hadn't been anyone to take charge of the kids in there, she'd found peace and calm in the smiling faces of the dear little ones, found happiness in watching the be young and be children, even when circumstances don't really give them much opportunities to be so.

"Why are you crying?" a brown haired boy asks as he stares up at her with wide eyes, the brown irises so deep and expressive.

She hasn't even realized that there are tears coursing down her cheeks. She reaches up and wipes them away, smiling at the little boy.

"I'm just happy," she tells him. It isn't exactly a lie, she is happy, happy to be alive, but she does feel like a piece of her heart is being torn apart at the site of such young ones in this predicament.

"You cry when you're happy?" the precocious young boy asks as he tilts his head to the side. His arms are dropped down, clutching a big, leather-bound storybook, and she looks at him, thinks that it must be so heavy for him. But he smiles at her, his nose scrunching up, as though nothing is wrong, and looking so adorable. "I'm Henry. Are you Miss Mills?"

She looks at him in surprise, shocked that he knows her. "Yes," she replies with a nod. "How do you know that?" She beckons him to sit beside her, no longer able to sit and watch him heave that heavy looking book in his arms. He can't be any more than ten years old, and the book looks like it's a lot heavier than he is.

He takes the seat beside her, placing the book on his lap, and Regina looks down at it to find the words "Once Upon A Time" engraved on the leather bound cover.

"I heard Ms. Blanchard and Mr. Locksley talk about you," he reveals, looking down at his book and shrugging. "Ms. Blanchard says you were going to give money to us to make this place better."

Regina purses her lips. She can't blame Mary-Margaret, she knows it isn't her fault that Henry knows now, and really, there isn't anything wrong with that. Regina just doesn't think that it's something to burden the children with.

"Are you really going to help make this place better?" he asks, not giving her time to reply. "Because it does need a lot of help, it's old and I know they've sent a lot of the others away because it's too much for them." He is looking at her in earnest, as though all the answers to his problems are in her hands.

He speaks wisely and maturely for someone so young, and it hurts Regina to think and to know that his condition have taken away the innocence that he is supposed to have. His whole childhood has been snatched away by this…by his condition.

"I hope so," she tells him, because she does, she really does. "It's going to be a long process, but I hope the money does help." She pauses and ruffles his hair. "Actually, it wasn't my money. I just delivered it to Ms. Blanchard."

Henry nods. "Thank you," he says, looking at her meaningfully, and it's enough to have the tears slip from her eyes. He says it so genuinely, with so much feelings and gravity that it breaks her heart.

"You're welcome," she tells him, giving him a one arm hug, as she swallows back the tears lumping on her throat. She can't tell him any more than that, doesn't know what the appropriate words are, so she looks down to the book on his lap and traces the letters with her fingers. "This looks interesting," she says.

Henry nods slowly, looking up at her with a solemn look on his face far beyond his years. "Ms. Blanchard gave it to me," he says as he splays the book open in his lap, leafing through it and landing right in the middle. "It's full of fairytale stories, you see?"

Regina leans over and peers at the book over his shoulder. "It _is_ interesting," she comments, pleased that he hasn't lost that part of his childhood at least, that still, even through everything he has to deal with in his young life, he still has faith in fairytales, in things that transcends realm and realities.

"Yeah," he agrees.

"Why don't we read something, hmm?" she asks him, smiling when his eyes lit up and he grinned.

For the rest of the hour, she stays in her chair and reads with him.

 **…**

Regina finds that she enjoys immensely the time she spends in the hospital. She likes the children, likes the staff, and other than the occasional temper tantrums that seem to be so normal among every child anyway, her time in the hospital as a volunteer goes along smoothly. Not only is she helping by volunteering her services, she's also doing something productive, something fulfilling.

She's found herself making friends with the staff, finds herself tolerating Mary Margaret's sweet disposition and almost fairytale princess like optimism. She enjoys the time she spends with the kids, finds the experience gratifying, humbling, even fortifying. She spends time with the boy, too, Henry, and she finds that the boy's company has managed to mellow her down, break the barriers in her heart that made her stiff and incapable of letting herself feel (because feelings are dangerous and unpredictable and she so hates surprises), she finds herself feeling more light these days.

Of course, there is a hindrance, as is usual in the machinations of life, since she cannot possibly be volunteering all her hours. Mother would have a fit if she ever even finds out that Regina has managed to stoop as low as volunteering in community hospital, even after already donating the money from Leopold. Her mother believes that because they could afford it, then they should have servants doing the mundane for them.

It had meant that while Regina was growing up, she hadn't had the pleasure of learning the things that the other children had, hadn't even had the chance to play outside with children her age. No, Cora Mills had made sure that her daughter is set apart from her peers, made to live in a life of lavishness and man-servants, money and power. Cora Mills made sure that Regina had a life fit for a princess, for one day, Cora vowed that her daughter would be Queen.

But it isn't at all what Regina wants, doesn't care much for riches or money or power. After all, humans are still more important than any of those material things. Love will always mean more than money.

 _Love is weakness_ , a treacherous voice that sounds a lot like her mother nags in her head, and she swallows, shakes her head and tries to erase the thought. Her mother might believe that love is weakness, but her father had taught her that love can be strength for although Henry Mills isn't a strong man—always overpowered by Cora Mills and forever living in her shadow—he had loved Regina enough for himself and her mother that Regina found the strength in herself to survive in a world where Cora is her mother.

And though Regina finds that she isn't strong enough yet to fight her mother, her love for her still strong after all these years, she tells herself that one day, one day she can prove to her mother that love, love truly isn't weakness.

With a sigh, she shoves the thoughts out of her mind and focuses on what she is doing at the moment. She's been roaming the halls of the hospital, checking if any of the children or staff needed help with anything. It is one of those days that she's been able to make an excuse to leave the house and come to the hospital to do some volunteer work. So far, everything has been quiet, the late afternoon hour making the hospital even more eerily silent as the children took naps and the staff puttered around for the things they need to do, or try to catch some rest while they can.

And so it captures her attention when she hears the sound of quiet whimpers. At first she ignores it, chalking it up to imagination since she's been hearing children crying and whimpering left and right. She takes a turn, passing by the director's office, and hears the cries echo louder. Her heart thumps in her chest loudly, certain that it is a child whimpering, afraid now that it might be a child in trouble. She stays immobile for a second, trying to listen and figure out where the sounds are coming from. She moves back from where she is standing right outside the director's office, taking a step back to the door of the next room. She opens it and finds a boy, probably aged three or four, lying down on the make-shift bed, whimpering and thrashing as a nightmare seem to disturb his peaceful slumber.

Slowly and quietly, she approaches the child, and though she doesn't know who it is, or whose child it is, she takes him into her arms and tries to rouse him from his fitful sleep. The boy stirs and opens his eyes, his mouth soon dropping and letting out a heart-breaking cry.

"Sshh," she whispers against the boy's curls, rocking him in her arms as she tries to soothe him. She feels a pang in her chest as the boy burrows himself further into his embrace, his arms going around her neck and locking around her in a vise grip. His cries turn into mere snivels now and he hiccups, his whole body rising and dropping. "It's okay, you're safe now."

"But the monkeys!" he insists, getting all worked up once more. "They were flying and coming to get me." He begins to cry once more, pushing closer into her as though she could protect her from the said flying monkeys.

She soothes him once more, running her fingers through his unruly curl and watching his face as it screws up in fear once more, his cheek donning on a deep dimple that would make anyone's heart melt. "There are no flying monkeys," she tells him, gesturing around the room, and he follows her eyes with his own, the fear in them melting, but his grip on her still ever so tight. "I won't let them get to you."

He looks deep into her eyes for a few seconds before he nods, lifting his tiny fists to rub against his eyes. "I'm Roland," he tells her with a watery smile. "I'm this many." He holds up four fingers, and Regina couldn't help but grin.

"I'm Regina," she tells him, her grin softening into a smile when he hugs her and squeezes lightly. "And I'm afraid I can no longer tell you how old I am with my fingers."

The boy giggles adorably, his dreams of the flying monkeys now long forgotten. His dimpled cheek makes an appearance, and Regina finds herself poking against the dimples, making him giggle further.

The boy—Roland, she tells herself—opens his mouth to tell her something, just as the door opens wide. His eyes widen with delight and he grins, squirming in her arms to be let go and let down, which she allows, carefully setting him on the ground before turning and facing the person that Roland seems to be so excited about—

"Papa!" Roland yells with glee as he runs the few steps that separate him from his father. He leaps into the man's waiting arms, and Regina almost groans, because of course, the adorable little child just had to be stuck with that man for a father (which is unfair for her to think because he might be a good father, if Roland's adoration of his is any indication, only he isn't so pleasant with her, or she just hasn't given him the chance—no matter). Their eyes meet over the boy's head, but Roland cups his father's bearded face and makes him pay attention as he says, "I have a new friend, Papa," the little boy reveals, "Her name is—,"

"Regina," Robert supplies, his voice coming out a bit breathy. His son frowns in his arms, probably not impressed that he's been robbed of the chance to introduce the lady who's become his new friend.

"Robin," Regina addresses him a little curtly. She gives him a little nod before she stands from the bed and walks over to where father and son are standing. She situates herself before them, giving herself ample distance from the man who she's deemed to smell like forest, and pats the boy's back gently. She gives him a small smile, one that he returns full force, innocently, blissfully unaware of the tension that always seems to be present whenever Regina and Robin are in the same room. "Look, you have your papa here with you now, there's nothing to be afraid of."

The boy frowns, looks thoughtful for a moment. "But what if they come back? In my sleep?" he asks with all seriousness.

Regina fights the urge to laugh at the look on his face, afraid that he'd take it as her laughing at him. She shakes her head. "Then you will fight them, because that is what brave little knights do, okay, hmm?" she tells him, watching as his eyes widen and light up.

"I'm a knight?" he asks as though it is of utmost importance, when Regina reckons that he probably has no idea yet what a night is.

"Yes," she nods seriously, trying to look just as serious as she peers at him. "You're in charge of protecting the queen. So you have to be brave."

"We don't have a Queen!" he exclaims, and she is about to explain that one day he would find one, but he still needs to be prepared and be ready, be brave now when he says: "Aha! You could be the Queen!"

Regina looks at him in surprise, eyes wide. Robin, who has remained silent up until that moment, chuckles, shoulders shaking as he looks at her and his son.

"Well, her name does mean Queen, and she does look like one," he offers as a comment, more to her than to his son, and she throws him a look, her emotions flying all over the place, so she doesn't even know what kind of look it is exactly. He only raises an eyebrow at her, both of them ignoring Roland's gleeful shouts and declarations that Regina is the queen in favor of staring at each other.

Regina almost couldn't believe that he knows what he name means, though it might not be surprising that he knows, just that he even cares to find out, or cares at all, to be honest.

Shaking her head, she pats the boy's back once more, offering him a tender smile and a curious look at his father before she excuses herself and hastily walks out of the room.

Her heart is fluttering in her chest, but she doesn't care to find out why.

Or at least, that is what she tells herself anyway.

 **…**

"No," Regina groans with a roll of her eyes as she spots that Robin Locksley coming her way. She stares at him with contempt as he smirks at her obvious annoyance of his mere presence. "Not you."

"Not me, what milady?" he says with a hint of teasing in his voice. He knows that for some reason, he irritates her, and rather than be offended, he's more amused and uses every advantage he has to increase her ire, not to the point that she might throw something his way, just enough that he might see some fire in her tired, sorrowful eyes. "Do you mean I shouldn't accompany you in this task of getting the water bottles out of the pantry? I know you think chivalry is dead in this time and age, but I do believe I still have my honor intact, milady."

It's been a few weeks since she's volunteered to work in the hospital, spending almost every other day to help out. She is there almost as much as he is, and he's a doctor volunteering his services to the hospital. Of course, he has his own practice, but most of the time, he's working on the hospital, his attachment to it far greater than his need for money. Of course, there is always Roland, his son, to worry about, but that had been pretty much been taken care of, his inheritance from his mother assuring him that he'd have a good future. As long as Robin could provide for the rest, then he doesn't see the need to make more money than he already does.

Which is why he is here, in Storybrooke, offering his services for free; and also, at the moment, trying to get this stubborn woman to accept his help.

He finds himself curious about her, that he freely admits. She's quite the character, cold and unmoving from the outside, but he had seen how being around the children had affected her on her first visit, had seen him comfort his own child a few days ago. He knows she isn't as cold as she'd like for everyone to believe. She has a touch of a mother, and he knows with just looking at her eyes that she is a warm, loving person who is just lost and waiting for someone to help her find her way.

"Oh, really?" she asks, waking him from his reverie. She is looking at him with raised eyebrows, as if daring him. "Who would have thought?" She must be referring to his comment about chivalry. He opens his mouth to make a retort, but she beats him to it, saying, "And if you really want to address me politely I'm very partial to your and majesty. They are better, especially if you put them together."

That makes him chuckle, although he cannot tell if she's serious or joking, and makes him shake his head in amusement. She is an interesting woman, Regina—smart, beautiful, sarcastic, mysterious and witty. She is almost akin to an Evil Queen coming to lure him into darkness. She looks like sin wrapped in a pretty package. He tries to rid himself of his untoward thoughts.

"You know I never was able to thank you for the last time…when you comforted Roland," he tells her suddenly, obviously catching her off guard. She'd been back to gathering the bottles, her back turned to him and she looks startled, her head snapping to look at him in wonder. "You have a touch of a mother, Regina. Thank you."

The words, meant to be a compliment, somehow seem to have fallen as an insult. Regina turns once more, her face looking straight forward as she stiffens and she stands ramrod straight.

"Regina—," he tries, buts he cuts him off with a wave of her hand.

"It's nothing," she says, as if knowing exactly what he is supposed to say and it makes him clamp his mouth shut, his breath coming out heavily as the tension hangs on the air above them—so thick, it could be cut by a knife. "I don't want to hear it."

That cements it, and he doesn't say anything anymore, letting the heavy silence envelope the small space which seems to be getting smaller by the minute.

 **…**

"You have a touch of a mother," he says, and the words that leave his mouth echo in her ears and head straight to her heart, like daggers. He doesn't know, of course, doesn't know how much the words hurt, doesn't know why, but she does and every word feels like she's being cut in half.

Her back straightens and her shoulders square away in defense. She tries not to let any emotion bleed through her expression, but she knows that her eyes would tell, so she looks forward and keeps her face in the shadow and away from him.

He must know that the words hurt, because he's speaking again, uttering her name delicately with compassion, and if there is anything that she hates most in the world, it is pity.

"It's nothing," she snaps, her voice sounding too weak for her words to be considered caustic. He doesn't say anything more but she hears his breathing, loud and heavy, and the tension envelops the already small room, making it even smaller. "I don't want to hear it."

They remain quiet for a while until she can no longer stand it. She schools her features into something more neutral before she turns to him, a box of water bottles in her arms. She jerks her head towards the other box.

"You can carry that," she says and without another word, she walks out of the confined space, leaving him and that awkward encounter behind.

When she makes it to the dayroom where the children are having their snacks, Mary Margaret greets her with a smile, while one of the other staff takes the box from her, Tuck or something like that. She hands it without qualms, wanting nothing but to escape but knowing she can't.

"Thank you for taking the boxes, Regina," Mary Margaret says gratefully. "Tuck and the others have just arrived and I didn't realize it was already snack time."

"It's nothing to worry about," Regina says with a dismissive wave of her hand just as Robin enters the room, the other box in his arms. She couldn't help but notice the way his pectorals bulge and strain against the fabric of his shirt. He looks scruffy, sure, but he wears it well, and he's smoking—stop, she needs to stop thinking of him like that. She doesn't even understand herself anymore, one minute she's cursing his very existence, and the next, she's ogling him and lusting after him.

Well, he _is_ hot, so she supposes it's typical female reaction.

"Drink, milady?" he asks, handing her a bottle of water with a smile as he stands before her. She hadn't even realized he is, she's been too absorbed in her thoughts.

She gazes up at him, disarmed by his dimples and his bashful smile. She clenches and unclenches her fists before she reaches for the offered drink and nods at him with a small smile. "Thanks," she murmurs, aware of the fact that Mary Margaret is watching them closely.

Robin nods, "You're welcome," he responds, still with a smile on her face.

She doesn't know when she offered, but he seems to have taken it upon himself to invite himself to stand next to her. She feels wary, as she stands there guardedly. He unsettles her, wracks her and makes her nervous. It seems like around him, Regina feels the need to be even more guarded than usual. She doesn't know if it's because he'd seen her once before, vulnerable and tearing up over the condition of the children around them, or if it's because he has the uncanny ability to rattle her defenses without even doing anything. He just has to stand near her and she feels threatened.

Maybe it's the smile. Or those blue eyes that sparkle as though he knows the mystery of Regina Mills and knows exactly how to solve it. Or maybe it's him, his disposition and the way he lives his life, wounded but he bares his scars for all to see, he is open about them, and though he doesn't openly discuss them, he doesn't try to hide them. It doesn't seem to make him weak, only stronger. His openness doesn't make him vulnerable.

Or maybe it's because it seems like he can read her so well.

"I'm sorry," he mutters once Mary Margaret has excused herself to go tend to the children while they stand just behind, overseeing. It is rather serene, that day. She looks up at him. "I know you don't want to hear it, but I need to say it. If anything I said, anything at all, offended you, I didn't mean for it to."

She believes him, believes that. She isn't sure why, but she does. Tentatively, and letting her inhibitions fall away, letting her mask slip down a little, she offers him a smile. "I know," she says, and she does.

"I'd like to have a do-over," he tells her then, making her raise an eyebrow at him. "You know, I think we kind of started off the wrong foot."

She nods, truly, they did. The antagonism between them had become too quick after she's thrown all her defenses up high. She waits him out, lets him continue.

"Maybe we could have a drink together," he suggests, which makes her swallow and look at him with narrowed eyes. "No, not like a date, I just want to start again, and I thought maybe you would be more open if we weren't in a place that makes you feel vulnerable."

She tampers down the urge to flare at his words. He isn't implying that she's weak, it's just in her head. "Well, maybe," she says, nodding. She looks up at the clock and finds that she has to leave now if she wants to get back on time and not be stuck on the rush hour traffic. She doesn't want to imagine what would happen if she is even late to dinner. She looks at him. "I need to go. Will you tell the others?"

He nods and she smiles at him once more before turning away and hurrying out of the room. She is almost at the door when she hears him call her name and she turns around, looking at him with confusion. "You owe me a drink," he reminds her with a grin.

Her heart flutters in her chest and she bites her lips as she turns around. She nods once, her back still to him, and mutters, "Yes, I suppose I do."

* * *

 **A/N: So, how did I do? Yay? Or Nay? Let me know!**


	3. 3

**Hello! I know it's taken me only like 90 years to update this one, but I got really stuck in it as I didn't know where to take it. Obviously I have an end goal in mind as this was a prompt given to me by a friend, but to get there-well I kind of needed a map, still do. I do think it's kind of really slow, the progression and the chapter itself, but I do hope that it sheds some light to our beloved couple, mostly on Regina, this chapter is very heavy on Regina and her feelings, and how Robin analyses it. So it's gonna be wordy and kinda lengthy and maybe boring to some, but it's sort of setting stage. And yes, as you might deduce at the end of the chapter and in almost all of my stories, I do love adding bits and pieces from the show and incorporating them in my AU fics, and just seeing how it works on a "normal" world setting. So yep, here we go. Sorry for the rant, enjoy!**

* * *

 ** _Chapter Three_**

 _"That's him."_

 _Regina takes a quick gulp of her drink before placing the glass back down on the table. She follows where her friend, Isabelle Tinkerson, or Tink as Regina likes to call her, is pointing at with her index finger. Her eyes land on a man at the bar, his back facing them, and his arm is raised in some sort of toast to his companions. His wrist is bared, and Regina could see something black etched on his skin. Something—_

 _"The man with the lion tattoo," her friend continues, oblivious to the way she's just rolled her eyes. She doesn't really care about any man at the moment, lion tattoo or not. And she doesn't care for any man, ever. "You should kiss him."_

 _Regina almost chuckles at this, because of course it is rather perfectly normal to kiss random strangers in bars, and hope to god that they could be your true love, your honest to goodness soul mate, as if things like that even exist. Instead, she scoffs and rolls her eyes. She is not about to march up to the bar and kiss a stranger._

 _"Next you'll be telling me to ride off with him to the sunset," Regina says with a great deal of sarcasm. "Or that pixie dust doesn't lie and he's supposed to be my soul mate, or whatever."_

 _Tink laughs beside her and shakes her head. "Well, you'll never know that if you don't kiss him, now would you?" she says, teasing, as she gets up and tries to pull Regina up her seat as well._

 _This is going to end up in a disaster, that much Regina knows, but she keeps mum, because there is no way to tell her friend (best friend, as Tink insists that she is to Regina), that him being a stranger is least of Regina's concerns why she shouldn't go up there and kiss him. It's more about her fiancé, or ex-fiancé, she mentally corrects herself, because he's long gone now. He's been dead for more than two years, yet her heart cannot forget, cannot move on, and therefore she can't do this, can't kiss the man with the lion tattoo, just because he's a perfect, unassuming stranger, and Tink just happens to have dared her to._

 _"He might be your second chance at happiness," her friend continues._

 _"Shut up, you're drunk," she retorts, rolling her eyes._

 _And just how is she supposed to believe that she's supposed to find her happiness in a drunken man in a bar? She won't. She won't find anymore happiness because Regina doesn't have any more chances at happiness. Her happiness is gone, buried six feet under the ground._

 _Without saying a word to her friend, Regina shakes her head and walks away and out of the bar, far from the man with the lion tattoo._

Regina wakes with a start, gasping for breath as her dream reels in her mind. She can see it playing clearly, and it's familiar because it's not just a dream, it's a memory of a time long passed, of a time when she hasn't been damaged and broken by the life she's led.

It's something new to her, however, because for the first time in what seems to be months, she dreams of anything but Cora finding out about her days in the Center and dragging her out of there and tossing her out on her ear. In some of her dreams, Cora has the whole place burn down, but in reality she knows that Cora would surely have the whole center close down, to spite Regina, because Regina has once again gone with her heart and against Cora's orders. At this age, turning thirty soon (not that she likes the reminder), she is still under her Mother's thumb and Cora still controls every single, little detail of her life.

Regina wonders why she's dreamt of such thing, a drunken night on a bar with her friend urging her to walk up to a stranger and make out with him for no apparent reason. She understands the other dreams, or nightmares as they are, because they are a subconscious manifestation of how terrified she really is of her mother, of what her mother could do—because Regina sometimes believes that Cora is heartless and will stop at nothing to do as she pleases.

And Regina has plenty of experiences with her Mother in that regard to make that a fair assessment. It's not an unfair assessment and it sure as hell isn't totally unfounded to fear her mother.

It's been weeks, after all, and still Regina manages to continue volunteering at the Centre. It's been hard, to keep sneaking from Cora. She doesn't seem to have any clue about what Regina gets up to, and that thought is dangerous in itself—Regina is playing with fire, she knows that—just because Cora doesn't know now doesn't mean she won't ever (it is Cora after all) but it's worth it. It is worth it to be there in that place. It's liberating and educating, and as depressing as the place can be, it still makes her happy to do volunteer work there. Not only is it a few days and a few hours, away from the scrutinizing eyes of her mother, but that place, with all the sadness and the loneliness and the embodiment of the people with life so precariously held by…well fate, faith and science and all it takes away—it's given her so much.

It's given her a new look to life that she's never had before. Imprisoned and ensnared by her mother's crutches with a steady future that seemed to be nothing but submitting to Cora's will, she'd thought herself unlucky, given a life that had been so cruel and full of misery. And it's all that she's ever held on to, the sadness and loneliness and the misery—she's held on to it like a lifeline because it had seemed like it is all she had. It had been the only thing she held on to tether her and make her feel like she still existed after every good thing in her life had been ripped away from her, without all of those she'd have floated away and lost herself…or so she thought anyway…because now, now that it seems as though life for her isn't as bleak anymore, not so miserable, she's not so lost.

She's found a part of her she hadn't even realized had gone.

And there are so many other things as well. She's been earning more friends than she's ever had in her life, after being so sheltered and hindered. There's Mary Margaret, who can be annoying with her endless optimism and steadfast belief that unicorn stickers and rainbow kisses can make everything okay but is also gracious and a constant ray of sunshine. There's also Ruby who can be tactless and vulgar, but knows how to have a good time, and can make her laugh. And Granny, who can be quite a lioness, but makes one great cheesecake and gives one hell of an advice. There's Will, Tuck, Little John, Killian and David, who are like the brothers she's never had. Henry and Roland, who both have filled a void in her heart she never even knew is there. Then there's Robin, whose smile and dimples, wit and constant need to be there for her which annoys her, makes her feel things that she cannot and never will admit to him—feelings that make her feel safe and cared for.

It's weird that these people, these people she's known barely a month have become such a big part of her life, has become somewhat like a dysfunctional family she can't live without. Her life just seems brighter on the days that she volunteers.

And she vows that if her mother wants to, in anyway, hurt them because they are part of the life Regina wants, an act of rebellion in Cora's eyes, then Cora would have to go through her first, because it _is_ more than just likely that Cora would, Regina knows.

With that thought in mind, Regina strives to be extra careful when she makes her way to the Storybrooke Heart Center. Call her crazy or even paranoid, but she'd really rather be cautious. She cannot allow this beautiful place to be put in danger, just because Cora deems it beneath Regina's level.

She checks her side and rear-view mirrors more than she usually does and takes careful and precise note of the time. She is cautious of the people she meets on the streets, wondering if maybe one of them is her mother's spy or private detective, following her around on Cora's orders.

Better be safe than sorry, right?

She hopes she won't cause anyone alarm with her bordering maniac behavior, but it isn't meant to be, because it doesn't escape Mary Margaret's notice. The younger woman (by a year, Regina notes) sets her aside a few days after she's begun being extra careful, and calls her on it.

"Nothing's going on," she tells the woman with a slight smile. It's as much as she can muster, as much placating as she can do, because she, herself, is as anxious as she could be. "I'm just tired, I suppose."

Mary Margaret looks at her doubtfully. "Are you sure?" she asks with a look in her eyes that tells her that unless Regina goes right out and tells her the truth, she'd know that it's a lie. And Regina's always thought she's some Disney Princess who believes that the world is good and nothing is wrong. Apparently not.

"It's fine," Regina says, trying very hard not to just snap and say that it's none of Mary Margaret's business because the other woman has been nothing but kind to her. "It's just some family stuff."

That is the best she could come up with. And that is not even a lie.

Mary Margaret hesitates, and then purses her lips before nodding, accepting her words as the truth. They are the truth, after all, just not the whole truth.

"If you ever need anything, I'm here," she offers though, and Regina sighs gratefully, smiling at the younger woman even if she knows she can never divulge the horror that is her Mother.

 **…**

Regina Mills is a lot of things, but frantic is not one of the things he's ever thought she would be. She's snarky, temperamental at times, guarded, but she's never been anxious, and if she ever has been in the few short months that he's known her then she has never outwardly shown it. He has always known her to hide her emotions well. He wonders now, as he watches her hand tremble as she places the glass down on the table, what has happened.

He wants to ask her, really, wants to help calm her down, but aside from that little episode where he's asked her out for drinks (which hasn't happened yet, much to his dismay), there hasn't really been a lot of progress between them. Sure, they're a lot more civil now, and she doesn't seem to have the urge to run the opposite way when they see each other, but they are far from friendly, and even farther from actually being friends.

He watches her as she moves across the room, food trays in hand and handing them over to the children. The children beam up at her, and she smiles softly in return, relaxing infinitesimally, shoulders dropping just a little bit, but the tension is still there. It makes him curious how someone could be so guarded.

But more than that it worries him, it worries him in a way that he is not allowed to be.

When she makes the last round, and Robin finishes with helping Tuck and John bring the food over, he slinks back into the corner, quietly watching her. He doesn't mean to be a creep, and he really isn't, but she fascinates him, confounds him at time, and his mind often drifts to her for reasons even he cannot explain.

She moves to the back, hiding behind the corner, and remains quiet, watching over the kids the way he is watching over her. But it is as if she feels his gaze upon her and she turns her head his way. He smiles, embarrassed about being caught but not willing to embarrass himself further by averting his eyes like a school boy caught ogling his first crush. She only raises her eyebrow at him then, and looks away again.

 **…**

She feels his eyes on her, feels him look over at her and watch over her every movement. She doesn't know why, but he knows that there is something wrong, and it isn't like it's any of his business. It unnerves her, how someone, a stranger, could be so in tuned to her and know, instinctively, that something is going on.

They are barely even friends. He shouldn't have to know.

But she can't push him away if he doesn't try to push his way in, so she remains passive, lets him watch her and speculate. Just because he suspects, doesn't mean he has to know. And besides, she's not sure she's all that willing to share to him the burden of what she feels or what's going on in her life, despite his soft, warm blue eyes that makes her want to just let him comfort her and hold her and…no, hell no, she isn't about to let herself fall into this kind of trap. It never does end well.

So she ignores him, pretends he's not there even when his presence is too overwhelming for her, even when his presence threatens to suffocate her sometimes because she feels him so acutely (so weirdly and so disconcertingly). It's just hard when he seems to keep getting in her way.

"Stop getting in my way," she tells him, half growling at him, when for the third time, he intercepts her _accidentally_ , sidestepping just as she does and on the same direction. Really, could he be more childish than his own son?

"I'm not," he says, his innocent words turning out to be not so innocent when he accompanies it with that stupid smug smirk she wants to kiss...what? no, punch, Regina wants to punch that smug smirk off his face.

Regina looks up at him and glares, nostrils flaring because this man unnerves her for some reason even she doesn't know. He gets under her skin and it seems like, for some weird reason, he does it on purpose and actually enjoys doing it.

She stares at him, eyes wide, and really looks at him. At first, it had been only so she could stare him down, but something's shifted between them, and suddenly she feels this—this something, this weird something that sends shivers down her spine and makes goosebumps rise all over her skin.

Her throat feels dry and she swallows, trying to push down the lump that seems to have lodged in there. It doesn't help, but she shakes her head anyway and pretends that it—whatever it was—had not affected her.

"Have we met before?" she asks him, out of the blue, surprised herself when the words come out of her mouth before she can even process them. She doesn't know why she's asked that, but she's always wondered, and well, she supposes, she's been doing a lot of things without thinking nowadays.

His eyebrows raise in a confused and intrigued manner, before he shakes his head. If there is doubt lingering behind his eyes, neither of them acknowledge it. "I doubt I'd ever forget meeting you," he answers.

She nods once and opens her mouth to say something, but nothing comes to mind, so she shuts it back up, and turns away from him.

"Milady, are you okay?" he asks her, and she wants to punch him because she can see that he's attracted the attention of the others by now, but the last thing she needs or wants is a scene, and so she shakes her head and sighs.

She doesn't bother with an answer, overwhelmed as she is by the ready and steadfast comfort he seems to offer that she cannot, for the life of her, bring herself to accept—out of fear, out of doubt, out of need to not be attached to him, for whatever reason—and then she takes her leave, not bothering to look back even when he calls her name.

 **…**

Something is definitely off with her.

He doesn't know what it is, he's been trying to figure it out but it isn't like he knows much about her to form a conclusion here. So he watches her go, his mind clouded by a thousand different things that could be wrong. Regina is already a pretty closed off person, erecting walls around her to keep herself and her true feelings locked in and not ever letting anyone in. He at least knows that much about her, can see that without having to look deeper, and what he wants to know is why. Something has happened that has made her the way she is, and there is an insane part of her that just itches to know, that just wants to know her no matter how much she tries to push back and send him away.

He doesn't know what it is about her, but there is something, and he really wants to help.

He sighs and watches as she places the tray she's been holding atop the table and makes her way out of the room. He doesn't know what's happened, but he's pretty sure he's hit a nerve within her. Or something in the span of that five second exchange that's made her upset.

He feels terrible. He hadn't meant to do anything to upset her. It's just that she _is_ already upset about something and he's only wanted to be able to help relieve her of that burden, in whichever way he can. He doesn't understand it either, and at this point, he's stopped trying to understand it.

"If you really want her that much then why don't you just ask her out?" he hears someone say from behind him, and he finds Will Scarlett looking at the general direction of where Regina had walked off to.

"Scarlett," Robin says in mock disdain as he rolls his eyes and faces forward again. "If you know you're useless why don't you scamper off?" He smirks as Will punches him lightly on the arm. It's good old ribbing from two mates who's known each other a long time, and neither of them takes it to heart when they send insults to each other. It's just a thing they've developed through years and years of camaraderie. After all, they've begun their friendship with less than friendly insults, and had begrudgingly turned it into friendship at the time when it seemed like each other was all they would have when they both moved in the United States at the same time.

"It's obvious you fancy her, you know," Will continues, ignoring Robin's jab. Robin, for his part, maintained the cool expression he'd schooled his face into. "Even a blind man could see it, and that's okay, I suppose, if you're into that…which you are."

"And what exactly do you mean about that?" Robin asks, raising an eyebrow at his friend. He can't help but let his hackles up and the insinuation. He loves Will, they have been friends a very long time, but his mouth sometimes can run and his words leave a lot to be desired.

Will raises his hands up in mock surrender. "Just that you never seem to like it easy," he says in a way of an explanation, and it's not much better, Robin thinks. "Your situation with Marian had not been easy either, and it seems neither will it be with this one."

Robin sighs, it's true enough, and so he decides not to take offense on it. "She…there's something about her. There's a part of her and I know she doesn't need help, she's said it herself, and made it clear through her actions countless of times, but I still…I want to help her."

"Robin, look, Regina is great, she's kind if a bit sarcastic and snide. But she's not a damsel in distress," Will warns and it's true, he's right. Regina is the farthest thing from a damsel. "You can't save her."

"I'm not trying to save her," Robin says with a roll of his eyes. He really isn't. Regina seems to be more than capable, but no man is an island, and he knows that despite the front she puts up for the world to see, she needs someone. She needs someone to be there, maybe not to save her, or even help her, but just to be there. Just like Robin, himself, needs, just like everyone else does. "She doesn't need saving."

"And you can't fix her either," Will adds as though Robin doesn't know that already. "She isn't yours to fix."

"She doesn't need fixing ei8ther," Robin adds, because, "She's not broken."

Will shrugs, mouth pursing and forming a small pout. "Be careful," is all that Will says. "I know it seems like it's worth it, and maybe it is, I'll never know, but do be careful."

Robin sighs and nods, heeding his friend's warning, though he tells himself that it's really nothing to ponder over.

 **…**

Regina hates this—hates that she tends to over think everything and that she gets affected. She isn't supposed to be, has spent so much of her life trying to rid herself of feelings that can be confusing and hard to deal with. She's lived her life where emotions are only a thing of a past, the life she's living certainly asks for it, but right now, with every second that she spends here, falling more and more into the comfort of being with people she's learned to care about, she's scared. She's so scared someone would just come and take it away from her—namely her own mother who seems to have zero regard for her feelings or needs if they do not coincide with the life she's mapped out for Regina.

It's all so depressing and she wishes she isn't like this, but there isn't anything to do. The fear takes over her, grips her at times she doesn't even suspect and it's too much.

It's all far too much for someone who has been trying to fight feeling anything for so long.

She sits on top of the table in the empty kitchens, knowing Granny would kill her if she ever found out, but not really feeling like doing anything about it at the moment.

"You don't need to be so scared," she hears someone say from beside her and she jumps, shifting to find robin sitting next to her, a soft smile on his face.

It all feels silly, now, when she keeps thinking about it, when she keeps anticipating something that seems to be a distant future, something that hasn't happened yet—but who can blame her? After everything that Cora had taken from her?

"I'm not scared," she tells him and that's a blatant lie, they both know it.

He shakes his head. "You're shaking Regina," he tells her, picking up he hand and holding it, despite it being clammy and—yes, he's right she's trembling. She should pull her hand away but his skin is warm, though rough, against hers and she really can't resist. "Talk to me."

She scoffs at him and rolls her eyes. "What makes you think I want to talk about it?" she asks him, though there is a part of her that does want to talk it out, to relieve herself of this anxiety, of this paranoia—but she can't.

She does not want to appear so weak.

"Well, for one, you'd have charred me to a crisp now, if you didn't want me to be here," he teases, and she lets out a breathy chuckle at that—if only she could. Then he turns serious, "And you'd pull your hand away if you didn't need the comfort."

With that, she pulls her hand away from him jerkily, ready to go on the defensive, but he doesn't let her, holds tightly on to her hand and even laces them together. She fights him still, even when it feels so good—something she won't ever admit to him.

"Stop fighting," he pleads softly, and then smirks. "I'm a doctor, I've spent a long, long time injecting the bottoms of the most squirmy, petulant children, you aren't going to win in this tug of war."

He grins at her, winking, and though it's absolutely ridiculous, and she doesn't even want to, she chuckles.

They both settle down, sitting next to each other, letting the silence soak through. It's pregnant with words unsaid but it's not totally uncomfortable, and Regina finds herself relaxing.

"My mother…" Regina begins, but pulls back her words. She doesn't know how to say it, if she even should divulge it to him.

"Yes?' he encourages though he doesn't pressure, just sits there and waits, holding her hand and making her feel things she doesn't want to feel.

She swallows and sighs. "She's…She's not the most maternal, and she has her own plans for me that she wants followed down to the t. She…she has this vision of what I should be and I'm afraid she won't stop at anything to get it. She doesn't care what stands on the way, she'll only step on it and destroy it the way she would a bug."

She knows she's painting her own mother in a bad light, but it isn't like there is another stroke to this painting.

"She doesn't know I spend time volunteering here," Regina finally confesses, and God it feels good to finally tell someone. "She won't like it."

Robin nods. "And you're afraid because you think she would destroy everything, everyone if she finds out?" he asks, though it's obvious that he knows the answer.

Regina bites down on her lip. "No," she tells him, shaking her head. "I'm afraid because I know she would."

Robin sighs too, then, seemingly sharing the feeling she feels inside though he must not know what it is that she really is feeling—or maybe he does.

"I had a sister," Regina murmurs, then, and she doesn't really know why she's telling him this, maybe because she wants him to understand the extent of Cora's cruelty, heartlessness. Maybe because despite the way she's fought so hard not, begrudgingly, she does trust him.

Deep inside, she trusts him.

"I never met her, never knew her, not until a few years ago. My mother gave her away when she was a baby because mother wanted more out of life than…well, she was a farmer's daughter, and she wanted to be more. She wanted to become a rich man's wife. She got a scholarship for a good school, but a few months before, a man got her pregnant and ran out on her, an old boyfriend she met at a bar…and she thought a child out of wedlock was a hiccup on her road to success so she gave her away. Mother didn't bother with her until she showed up in our house, claiming she was the child my mother gave up…she was sick, she needed help…Actually, to be honest I think Zelena knew she was beyond help, she just wanted mom to be there, but until her last breath, mother never helped her, never even acknowledged her. And she died, and I was there at the funeral but mother never came."

Tears prickle at the back of her eyes, and she wants to cry, wants to sob and cry and fall apart, but she can't. She doesn't want to.

There are more things in her life she could grieve about, and if she lets herself fall apart now, there is no saying when she'll ever be better again.

"I know it sounds…I know how it sounds and maybe I'm over reacting, maybe I'm being paranoid, but I know her. I know what she can do…and I don't want to take this away from the kids, I don't want to be the reason that…this, all these…all of these gets taken away from them." She goes silent for a minute and she breathes in, out, in again, then out again before she closes her eyes. "It makes me feel evil."

"Regina," he breathes out with heaviness in his tone. "You are many things, many, many things I wish for the opportunity to get to know," he pauses and Regina feels her heart trip hammering inside her chest at his words and the look that comes along with them, "…but I do know one thing…you are the farthest thing from evil. These are things out of your control, and sure, if your mother finds out and she _does_ I don't know, something drastic about it…then yes, that would definitely be devastating, but that won't be your fault."

She sighs, of course it is.

"It won't be, it isn't, and it sure as hell doesn't make you evil," he repeats sternly.

"Selfish?" she asks, and she is suddenly reminded of how selfish she's being, of how she's doing this, all of this, to be rebellious, she supposes. And though it is something she enjoys, something she does because it is a cause close to her heart, it doesn't really take away the fact that she should not be allowing herself to do this, should not be allowing for any of this to happen.

"No, Regina," Robin says, and he's holding her closely now, hands cupping her cheeks as he stares deeply into her eyes. "Again, you're many things—snarky, bold, audacious, stunning," he pauses, and she blushes, "but you're not selfish, not evil."

She shouldn't let him get too close, shouldn't let anyone—it would all just end in heartbreak, but she can't help it. Robin makes her feel things she's long since tried to forget, long since thought she'd never ever feel again.

She closes her eyes and breathes. She opens her eyes again, only to come face to face with a tattoo marking his forearm. Her eyes widen in horror, a gasp escaping her now parted lips.

It can't be. It just can't be. It would be too cruel a trick that fate could play on her.

Horrified, she takes struggles from his old and shakes her head before turning away and making a hasty exit, wishing to high heavens that he won't follow. And as bewildered and as confused as he probably is, he only calls her name and stays put.

Regina almost breathes in relief, if only there is much to be relieved about in the situation.

It's _him_.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading. Let me know your thoughts, if any of you are still interested!**


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